Look with your heart
by oldfashionedromantic
Summary: Christine has second thoughts the night before Don Juan Triumphant and things take a different turn as a result will she truly learn to look with her heart?
1. The chapel

**Chapter 1**

 **The Chapel**

 _Christine_

Moonlight poured through the window of my sanctuary as I prayed for my own immortal soul; shivering in fright as I made my mouth form words to a God I feared above all else. This horrendous thing I was to do this night, lure this poor man to his death gave me a sickening feeling. I had not slept in weeks and had been rehearsing day and night for hours on end. My throat ached and I feel miserable, my body was as heavy as a block of lead and I was about to commit murder. It was just as bad as if I were one of the officers in the balcony, awaiting with a gun to shoot; only if I had to but shoot to kill.

The trouble was, that they would have to kill him on sight because if they gave him even a moment to think; if they gave him even the slightest chance Erik would outsmart them without a second thought. It would be quick cunning and no doubt dangerous for everyone else involved and that night, the night before this opera I rose from my sleepless bed and decided that the best cure for my insomnia would be if I crept down to the chapel that had become my own private comfort-zone. When I closed the door however, the soft thudding of wood as it met headlong with elegant plaster made a resounding boom amidst the otherwise silent corridor.

Erik was in no immediate danger tonight. In fact, it almost made me laugh to think of these foolish people trying to capture my former maestro. Though I did feel a pang of guilt as I peered down at my exhausted fiancé, sleeping from pure fatigue against the unforgiving wooden pane of my door with his sword across the knees of his dress pants and I began to think, not for the first time that I am simply unworthy of his love and devotion. I laid my scarf over his lap and my furry hat behind his head. It wasn't pillowy but it was soft enough to ease his immediate discomfort of the plank. I had to be very careful when I lifted his head because he was a painfully light sleeper that the slightest jostle might wake him for the remainder of the night.

It broke my heart to see him like this; he deserved better than this. He deserved some sweet-tempered debutant who spent his money in exuberant amounts and gave him all the prestige his family deserves. Someone seventeen, obedient and sweet, not me, a common girl who was so lost in some turbulent world that made no sense to me or anyone else for that matter. But here it was and here we were, amid a firestorm of emotions, lust, love, agony and murder all culminating to a breaking point on the stage of Europe's most famous opera house. No doubt the managers would make a bucket load of money off the ensuing scandal that was sure to ensue in the coming nights.

And then what would happen to dear sweet Raoul? I was no fool; I knew his family did not approve of me because of my low station and it was putting a lot of strain on his family relationships. No doubt his parents and older brother had had enough of me and his notions of marrying me and the thought that I was now being stalked by some supposed ghost who the great Vicomte De Changy now had to slay with an army of gunman. Good lord the ramifications of this were going to be nothing short of disastrous for us both and as I put on my robe I shuddered to think of the consequences.

I made my way to the entrance of my chamber; the door squeaked or rather screamed in the utter silence of the hallway. In any other circumstances, I would have ignored the noise for I often was found wandering about the dark and empty halls of this old building at some point or another. Erik and I had wondered these halls a million times or more, his silken glove encasing my hand as he guided me through these darkened corridors with his near-catlike eyesight. I fear I am developing the same for the journey to the lower rooms with only the pale light of the moon filtering through a window of stained glass to show me the way. I knew the moment I reached the little church room because I had been there so many times before.

I waited in the chapel of the opera Garnier awaiting the arrival of my fiancé, as I clicked my rosary beads in silent prayer. Above me the stained-glass window sported the image of the Virgin Madonna. Her hand was extended towards the ground and her eyes were closed, there was a closed-mouthed smile curving her lips. She looked at peace, as though she was holding the Christ-Child in her arms when he had been born of our lord. I envied her, she had not a care in the world, her husband was God and he always had the answer to everything. He was perfect, literally and she had nothing to worry about.

My father's picture was right in front of me, all I had to do was look up and I could see him. Yet, strangely enough I could not bring myself to do so, could not bring myself to consider those blue eyes. I don't know why, perhaps I feared that seeing him would bring his eyes to life. Normally, I would not think this is a bad thing for I have always loved my father's eyes, especially at night when it was story time. I loved the twinkle they developed when he told me my favorite story, the one of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music.

But, while I loved his happy eyes, his disapproval had always been something I had always feared. It was not that I feared he would hit me; my father would've gladly cut his own hands off before he laid them on me. But, then he'd never had to because, well all he'd had to do was say 'Christine Annabelle Daaè' and I knew I was in for it. Either that or he would give me a look, the kind of look that said, 'I'm so disappointed in you.' It was that look that made me want to cry, and I feared that if I looked at his picture his eyes would show me just that look. Oh, I know I sound silly, worrying over the gaze of a photograph but I cannot help it.

I knew he would disapprove of me now and would most certainly have taken me to task for being childish. Indecisiveness was something my father absolutely abhorred, dreaming was fine encouraged even but being indecisiveness was just…no. So, I clicked my prayers away keeping my eyes down to avoid my sire's unhappy gaze. He would be so unhappy with me; I could just see him now chewing away at his mustache and raging at me that I haven't got the sense I was born with and that it was not right to keep two good men on the hook. Well one good and one not so much but all the same a good girl does not do such things.

But I was not a good girl, and I knew it; so, I prayed for repentance, "The Lord is my Shepard…I shall not want-"I began.

I never finished the prayer because I was just so tired that I laid down on the rug and knew nothing else until I woke up onto darkness once again having slept the day away. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the silver pocket watch that my tutor had given me with for my last birthday; the smooth glass face showed me that the witching hour that I dreaded so much was merely hours away. The soft, _thud_ of footsteps was coming down the steps towards the chapel as I sat up from the fetal position I was in and peeled my eyes open all the way and my eyes filled with dread to see Raoul coming in an eager smile on his face, his hazel eyes shining.

He came down and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing the side of my face, drawing me back to him. His lips, those lips that I had once loved so much now felt _odd_ ; unpleasantly so. Hot and squishy, the same with his hands, they were too hot almost burning and I felt a need to recoil from them. Raoul was oblivious, he pulled me into another kiss and his tongue was slimy and sickeningly sweet with the flavor of an extravagant dessert wine. I had never known my suitor to drink before, and I had no idea how much alcohol he had consumed and wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"It's almost time Christine." He whispered.

"I know." I said. My voice seemed lower than his as I turned away.

"Oh Lotte, isn't it wonderful?" he spun me around to face him.

I blinked, "Isn't what wonderful?" I echoed, "Raoul are you drunk?"

"Just a little liquid courage my love. "he said stupidly, then grinned like a right moron and shouted, "We're going to kill the monster tonight!" hos voice ringing jovially, painfully on my ears. "Yes indeed, we're going to kill him!"

I stepped back, "Raoul, you say that like it's a good thing!"

"It is! It is! It's wonderful!" he grinned like a clown.

I was dumbstruck but before I could reply he came at me and swept me off my feet and into his arms cradle-style. I shrieked out of surprise and he spun me around in circles, laughing and humming The Battle Hymn of the Republic but singing out- rather loudly- 'Glory, Glory, Hallelujah' I felt sick to my stomach at the sight of his smiling face and wondered for a moment if he had gone mad. I pressed his chest, with my left and grabbed his arm with my right to show my wish to be put down. He set me on my feet and I had to take several deep breaths to fight down the wave of nausea bubbling up inside my gut. Raoul did not seem to notice and continued to dance for a moment before turning to look at me, standing rooted to my spot.

"What's wrong Christine?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said quickly.

"No, no, little Lotte something _is_ wrong and you're going to tell me what it is right now." He said.

I rolled my eyes at him and thought for a moment that I should just turn on my heel and walk off. I'd had the power to do so, after all Raoul was not my father no matter how much he tried to act like it. He was staring at me expectantly, waiting and I wanted to keep him that way because well…I do not know. Raoul moved forward, coming closer to me, presumably to get a better look at my expression. I stared back. He moved back, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot. I rolled my eyes again; I did not have to answer to him and could not even if I wanted to because there was no rational reason for me to be acting the way I was.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, peering at me as though I were the subject of an experiment.

"I just feel…a little sick is all." It wasn't a lie. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Raoul frowned, reaching up and touching my forehead moving down to check the sides of my neck. He scooped me up again and sat me down beside him at the window, his hand touching my hair. "What's wrong love?" he asked, "Do not tell me it's stage fright."

I shook my head and turned to him, "I can't do this Raoul."

He looked at me, surprised. Then he said, "You cannot sing?"

I did not know how to tell him because the answer was so simple, I didn't want to kill a man who had done me no harm and I didn't want to marry Raoul. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't want Raoul and I did not want Erik to die. This was not the way that my story was supposed to end, everything was going wrong. Love stories

I shook my head again, "Not tonight, not in this Opera."

"Why? The part was _made_ for you. The monster himself said so."

I shot to my feet, suddenly angry, "He is _not_ a monster and I do not care if it was written for me by the seraphim themselves!" my voice softened. "I can't… betray him." I started to cry.

Raoul showed me no sympathy and began to laugh, _to laugh_ of all the things he could do, he was laughing at me! I looked up at him, tears in my eyes as he shook his head in the teasing way he had done when we were children. He usually didn't laugh at me when I was in pain but for some reason he thought this was funny. Normally, I would have laughed with him because his laughter was infectious just by the sound of it. But, just now his laughter was the very last thing I wanted to hear. I needed his arms and his sympathy just now… I looked down at my lap.

He shook his head and looked at me, "Oh, you are serious." he said.

My head snapped up to look at him, my eyes angry as I clenched and unclenched my hand. 'Oh you are serious,' what else did he think I would be in this condition? He grinned and ruffled my hair with a boyish twinkle in his eyes as though they were playing a game of truth or dare and he'd just ordered me to do something particularly mimic-worthy. Something particularly naughty like sneaking a cheeky kiss on the lips when our parental chaperones were not looking. But this was far more serious than that, this was murder! Oh, God, this was pure murder and he was laughing as if it were some joke!

I glared at him not knowing what else to do at that moment torn between smacking him upside the head hard enough to make him see lights and crying harder. I chose the second option because it was easier to cry then to strike the man I was going to marry. Not only that, but it would be dreadfully unladylike, not that Raoul's behavior was the picture of a gentleman's manners but still. He took me in his arms and swept me off my feet spinning me about again, I waited till he put me down before drawing back slightly his hands cupping both sides of my face. I wanted to pull back, but he tipped my chin up and ran his fingers over my chin.

"Now, love you cannot tell me you feel sorry for this man." He said, jokingly, "I mean he tried to _kill_ me at the graveyard." He softened his touch…" I'm the man you love… this is how it's meant to be Christine."

I shook my head.

"This is how it's meant to be Christine." He whispered softly, repeating himself.

His mouth came down on mine. He pulled me closer to him and tried to deepen it, I wanted him to. No, I wanted to be able to let him deepen the kiss but I closed my lips and he kissed their rims and nothing more. His tongue ran over the tops of my lips and I found myself wanting to pull away, his lips were firm and pushy and they made my stomach churn. I pulled my head back, everything about this felt wrong on some fundamental level deep inside me that I had not known existed but now I had to swallow the bile in my throat and grimaced of the bitterness of that sour liquid

"Christine, why'd you not kiss me back?" He asked.

"I don't know…" I replied. It was true I did not know.

"It's show time." He said with a sigh of resignation.

I nodded and watched him as he turned and left the room, waiting for the failing thunk of the door. Raoul turned back to me and blew me a kiss, stopped and stepped forward, kissing me on the forehead. I patted his hair stiffly and nodded when he said, 'I love you'. He turned back around and smiled at me, I gave him a smile and he left. He left me sitting there on the floor, biting my fist and nearly crushing my rosary-beads in my other hand. I sat there and looked up finally towards my father's picture. His eyes were alive with the consoling expression he had always given me when I was a child. The kind he used to give me when Raoul would tease me or tug at my hair. That look that said, 'Don't worry, everything will be all right.' I started to cry.

No, I would not go on stage tonight; I will not be an accomplice to a murder, no matter what kind of man he was! I started to get to my feet, as shaky as they were, intending to make my way back to my dressing room. I would go back to my dressing room, use the secret door and warn Erik of what was to come and even if it ruined my future with Raoul I would make sure Erik did not die. As I got to my feet, I felt the floor cave in underneath me…I must have tripped because I was falling, falling. It seemed like the world had faded away, because as I did so, I saw nothing but black…


	2. The Intruder

Chapter 2

 **Intruder**

 _"I gave you my music, made your song take wing…_

 _And now, how you've repaid me…_

 _Denied me and betrayed me…"_

He had watched her and her boy as they kissed and held one another. The snow glittering like pearls in her warm-honey curls as she held onto the golden river of Apollo's hair flowing down his back, his warm hands cradled her shoulders as he kissed the pink rosebuds that were her lips. Parted them to drink her nectar, which was the juice from her mouth. His silver eyes melted into the saddest, cold metal freshly ready to be made into the dagger she'd plunged into his heart. Erik had never been one to give way to physical emotions and had not been for many, many years knowing full well that they served little purpose other than to annoy him.

Emotions like love and empathy had been beaten out of him many, many years ago first by his poor unhappy mother and then by the rest of this wretched world. No room for the ugly, hideous oddity that is Erik -never mind the last name- he doesn't have one. He had no father in which to bestow one upon him, no man to show him to treat a woman with love and regard, to be loved and be a good man. That almost made Erik laugh because to be a good man, he had to be considered a man to begin with, which he was not. He was nothing more than the monster under the bed.

The reject of humanity, the outcast, the pariah Erik had long since given up on being able to feel anything for anyone until that fateful day just three months ago when he had first laid his poor unhappy eyes on the delicate beauty that was Christine Daaè. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, a crying and thoroughly bullied child still holding onto the memory of the father who had left her behind. Such sad blue eyes, the shape of limped tears as a wilting forget-me-not bloom in the last dregs of summertime before it slept in winter's arms.

Normally Erik would have done one of two things; the first of which being kill the person who dared bother his ears with that offensive choking noise. Two, torment the person for he dearly loved to frighten the brats of the _corps de ballet_. Drunken swine that they were half-seize over with cheap liquor and rum and screeching about ghosts and gentlemen in dress clothes, well if they wanted fantastical beings they would get them. As a matter of fact, Erik had just gotten done spooking the living daylights out of that annoying little Jammes and was having a good laugh for himself when he heard the offensive noise.

He would have ignored her but he just felt something draw him to this child, there was something deep inside them that had joined them together. Their music was this deep contracting force that irrevocably tied them together. She was the chain to his twisted heart, the only good in his wretched blackened world and yet the one power greater than music had taken her away from him. True love. When that handsome young dandy-boy had waltzed into the opera it had brought back all those long-forgotten emotions of her past.

" _Anywhere you go, let me go too…_

 _Love me that's all I ask of you…"_

Erik felt his heart being ripped in half at the memory: watching her as she accepted the boy into her heart, as he swept her off her feet and kissed her deeply. She had done what no one else could do, she had betrayed him, literally broken his heart to pieces. Worse yet she'd used the only gift he could give her… his music to turn against him. He had given her a gift from heaven and now he was paying for it. A price she had set too high, a price he did not bear to pay, a price he could not bear to pay…and yet here he was with the broken heart, no matter which way he tried to reason with himself the unfairness of it all was as prevalent a red flag in front of a bull. Of course, it was to be expected, the idea that he might be loved.

 _"Wait for me Raoul."_

The blackness of his inner workings had worked within him, twisting his heart inside out. He gazed down at the rose in his hand, remembering that he'd left her at the end of Hannibal. Remembering the way, she had looked down at it in curiosity and delight. He wanted to cry out in rage as he gazed at the hundreds-upon-hundreds of love songs he had written for her. But she did not understand how she could hurt him with her rejections? After all it is true that things are never what they seem, his mother had hated him for no reason other than him being odd. Erik was quite an odd child. His mother had tossed him aside just as his beloved had. She did not understand him, or more importantly that she was everything to him. All she saw was his face for being deformed was not… well the most appealing thing that a woman could see in a man.

Erik had to admit that deformities were coupled often with bad habits and his pastimes of ventriloquism and cruel magic tricks. It was quite an odd thing to do and when I say, he was odd I do not only mean in the physical attributes for no fool would be as blind as to see the child was not a handsome one. No one knows where this oddness began, or rather we shall say that there are no people exactly sure. All we know is that for some reason or another the child let out his first cry, a cry of the purest sound. It was truly a gift from heaven, but what a price he had to pay and it was not one he had chosen. The ugliness was merely one of his many curses. And now he was forced to watch someone _else_ fall in love with her; someone else say the four words that burned deep within his soul.

 _"Christine I love you!"_

The Phantom would have laughed at the irony of those four words, this boy, this fop did not know the meaning of love, oh woe to poor Erik who winced as she gave him the dazzling smile of a love-struck girl with the beau of her dreams. He gave her the same grin, sweeping her off her feet, making her laugh softly and carrying her off bridal style to the rooftop door. The other watched her little hand as it graced the polished wood of the door daintily and it swung open to allow her entrance to another world. The world he had made for her, Erik closed his eyes and sobbed softly as he faintly heard them singing through the door. He would never hear that voice again…

 _"Order your fine horses; be with them at the door."_

Erik grimaced at that, fine horses indeed! She wanted him to order his horses, to win her heart… when he, as monstrous as he was had given her everything he had and still it had not been enough. He was after all a De Changy, Raoul-Goddamned-De-Changy, second heir to one of France's oldest and most noble lineages. His bloodline could be traced back to royalty by his grandfather's blood only three generations above from his own. Indeed, it was quite an accomplishment for a young opera star such as her to win over his affections. Every woman in Paris was after this boy for some reason or another whether it be wealth or some other reason.

 _"And soon you'll be beside me."_

No doubt, she would, she was with the little twerp right now or was the boy too blind to see that. He sneered, that gorgeous young fop of hers was everything a girl could want in a young man, handsome, disgustingly rich, charming and so young in his mind that he was as innocent as a lamb. His family was of good blood no doubt and his inheritance was, he was sure, no small fortune. Not to mention his spending finance were not meager in any shape or form. It did not hurt that he was also a titled man, indeed being a Vicomte was no harm to his appealing features. He had thought Christine might be different, but it turned out she was just as fickle as any other woman. Frightened of how ugly he was, disgusted by him and hiding in the arms of humanity from the monster she thought so desperately to escape.

 _"You'll guard me and you'll guide me."_

Guard her from what? Surely not from him, did she think that he would harm her? True he had lost his temper with her back in his home two nights prior to this, but that had been because she had hurt him. She'd hurt him more deeply than even this had done, for he knew very well why he had lost her. He should have known that she would not be ever able to love someone like him. His heart ached, he wanted her so much that it hurt him… his ingénue. The little blonde angel whom he had taught to sing was now a woman and not just any woman. The only woman he'd ever loved or ever would for that matter.

 _"Raoul I've seen him; can I ever forget that sight?_

 _Can I ever escape from that face, so distorted, deformed; it was hardly a face…"_

She would never love him, never ever love him. Why would she? When she had the most eligible man in France wrapped around her delicate hands. Raoul was a nobleman, _a nobleman_ for the love of god! Erik sighed, an aristocrat with looks as golden as Apollo and wealth enough to buy her whatever she wished. Erik was not a poor man but his money had come from extortion, not from an honest day's work. His visage was a perfect reenactment of The Thing under the Bed, a nightmare of a child… or worse the offspring of the Lords of Death and the Underworld.

The boy's hands were smooth and warm, soft as a freshly polished marble. Tanned but pale and well formed, Erik's hands were yellowish and calloused with boney, rough fingers. Of course, she preferred the boy's touch to his. He whimpered, brushing tears from face as he felt something squeeze at his heart. At first he thought it was pity, though he did not know what it was that he pitied. Then he realized that it was anger, at himself. He hated himself as he realized the horrible truth. The reason he had lost his beloved.

 _"He was bound to love her_

 _When he'd heard her sing…"_

Erik had given her the gift of music and the keys to (apparently) more than one man's heart. For the first time in … well forever he had a fleeting moment of regret for teaching her to sing. He shook his head, what was he talking about? He would _never_ regret releasing a gift from the angels, why that would be a crime! The seraphim gave her that gift just so she could dazzle the world. It wasn't their fault if the man who'd been chosen to tap her talent foolishly lost his heart to the holder. The Phantom sighed in resignation and rubbed his aching chest. He supposed he'd served his purpose in life, been given his chance to shine and now he had to learn his place.

Although, this was the one lesson he did not want to learn, because it was the hardest lesson of all. He picked up the book on the coffee table beside him, Beauty and the Beast. How he wished the story could come true! Not that he was fool enough to ever believe fairytales were anything more than fiction, but even monsters could wish on occasions and stories had been a comfort to him when his mother had been cruel to him. A comfort and a torment, for when they ended and his fantasy died away he was left in his cold reality. His reality, the stuff of horror made of the coldness of night, a reality of darkness and loneliness, and all his nightmares.

Darkness was the only thing he would ever know, the only shadow to soothe him would be his unrequited dreams. He should have never dreamed that out in this world, there were arms, which would open to him. To hold him in their embrace, he had always been alone and thus being how he would remain. Still even though he'd always known this that his heart was on its own, that he would have to learn to laugh in his loneliness, he had hoped there would be someone to love him. Someone who would love him… how ridiculous! A pure false hope…

 _"No one would listen…_ _No one but her, heard as the outcast hears."_

Erik began the words of the most recent song he had written for and dedicated to Christine. He'd planned to sing it to her after he knew he was loved by her for himself. Now he sat there in his chair in front of his diorama and fingering the stem of the crushed rose he'd given her. He sat there, singing to himself as he set down the shattered rose and brushed his finger over his eyes. They came away wet as a sob formed like a plug in his throat.

 **Ring!**

Erik was interrupted by the sound of the bell going off near the gate of his home. He growled and grabbed a read as he could tell with his acute hearing that whomever they were coming from the lake. He grabbed his reed, the one he used for breathing and singing in the water. Very good for catching pests like this, a little hypnotism and dulling of the senses and they were six feet under water quickly. He stood at the back of the shore, stuck the reed into his mouth and dove in. He found them quickly and grabbed them struggling with one arm, intending to strangle them unconscious and then drown them. His intruder grabbed at his arm as he forced their head under water. When he discovered them to be still conscious, he yanked them up and pressed his arm tighter.

"Help!" they called and went limp in his arms.

Erik looked down; his face went as white as it could with his yellowish tint… _no… no…_ He pulled up from the lake and carried her to the Louise-Philippe room.

He had strangled Christine.


	3. Coming to

**Chapter 3**

 **Coming to**

 _Christine_

The tunnel was cold, black, empty and I stood amidst its shadows. The time lapsed on and on until I felt older than my actual age of seventeen, yet my appearance told a story very different than that. My body was visually the same, blonde curls, pale, and my father's blue eyes, but the tunnel's coldness made me feel older. I felt frail, weak and cold both inside and out. Not the sort of chill that comes with the morning air nipping at one when one goes for a walk in the early hours just after the silver sun rises in the mists. These chills were those of a terror, a mindless blinding fear that caused one to grow cold, so very, very cold.

Had to get there, had to warn him about the opera. I dove in the water belly-flop style. I swallowed some of the lake-water as I tried to get my footing so to speak. It tasted awful and my stomach lurched. My head surfaced and I tried to find something to grip, but then I was in pain. Something was grabbing me; it was harsh and sharp and tight… so tight. It was chocking me and I was feeling my heart slow… I could not breathe. My blood seemed to run like ice in my veins, thick and hard. The veins seemed like frozen channels whose water had almost frozen into muddy waves, which might stop my pulse at any moment. A black void opened then and I was falling as it pulled me down as it began to suck him in like a vacuum.

Sucking, sucking…

When I shot up from my sleep I found myself in the Louise-Philippe room, swaddled in silk and velvet as I lay on the massive swan-shaped bed. I closed my eyes again, intending to go back to sleep but found myself far too restless to do so. Instead I lay there wondering where I was and why I was here. Shouldn't I be at the opera getting ready for the performance? The performance! I sat up violently suddenly remembering what I had come here for… tonight was the night of Don Juan Triumphant and I'd come to warn Erik about…something. If only I could remember what it was! Ugh, my head was throbbing from the effort and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.

I closed my eyes again and tried to think of nothing but how tired I was. Trying to block out the confusion and the worry over the man's fate and how guilty I felt over almost going along with it. I swear it must've worked because the next thing I knew was water, closing in on me like a wall and then an arm gripping me. The arm was choking me and my head was under the water. It was darkening and green with the reflection of the dimly lit tunnel. I woke up, sitting bolt-straight in the bed, my stomach pulsing hard and my heartbeat a frantic pace.

I felt nauseous, so sick in fact that I was afraid to lie in bed because I did not want to be sick on the exquisite sheets. I rose to my feet, immediately regretting it because my stomach lurched up into my throat. Covering my mouth was no help, I started to wretch violently and the bile flowed over my hand. I began to throw up violently although muffling the gagging with my palm. I suddenly felt myself being lowered down to the bed again. My head was over the chamber pot, my hand in the grip of something firm and cold.

"There now, there now…" A voice came to my ears.

I looked up to see Erik there, his silver eyes staring down into my forehead with sympathy and his hand now rubbing my back. He waited till I had finished and then took out his handkerchief, mopping the residual vomit from my chin. I looked up at him, he was wearing the mask again, the one that covered his whole face. I wanted him to take it off, it looked dreadfully uncomfortable but I knew he wouldn't. The second wave of vomit hit me so hard that I lurched forward and threw up all over his lap.

"I am sorry, I ruined your clothes." I sputtered

"To hell with Erik's clothes, Erik will vex himself over the cleaning when it matters." He said.

I attempted to laugh but the only noise that escaped my mouth was a fit of harsh gagging. Erik hesitantly put his chin atop my head and rocked me like a child, making shushing sounds. I leaned back and laid my head in the hook of his shoulder. I felt him stiffen at the contact, and I expected him to tell me to get off, but he didn't.

He merely looked at me with shocked, watery eyes and reached up to touch his face. His boney finger trailing over his mask Erik held his hand there and shivered as he touched the mask. I pulled at his lapel and he dropped his head so that he was looking at me.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?" "I heard the silky rumble of his voice

"Sing for me you've such a beautiful voice… sing me to sleep." I murmured.

 _"Hear those bells ringing soft and low._

 _Ringing each through the twilight glow,_

 _Calling to everyone, night has begun…_

 _Tired from your weary toil, day's work is done._

 _Hear them ring as my love and I,_

 _Drift and dream to their lullaby…"_

I fell asleep in his arms, my hand curled around his lapel, but when I woke up he was gone and I was swaddled in silk and velvet again. The bed was warm and soft, but now I'd no clue why I had been sleepy to start with. The soft sound of a lullaby was coming through the room and Erik was sitting there as stiff as a board as he pounded his forehead on the keys of his piano. I wanted to run over to him and pull his head back.

Instead I called him, "Erik?"

He lifted his head from the keys and I sucked in a breath as he padded over to me. I noticed the big purple bruise on his forehead and motioned towards it. He shrugged as if to say, 'it doesn't matter' before kneeling at feet like a devoted man-servant and kissed the hem of my dress. I put my hand on the top of his head, the coldness of his balding skull underneath my hand and as I gazed down upon him I recognized his hands. I do not know what happened but my hand shot out towards his face.

 _Smack!_

The sound resounded about the cavern as though someone had shot off a pistol. My eyes widened as my hand flew to my mouth. What had I just done? Erik did not move, but when he looked up at me with a moonlit sadness that made my eyes water. Erik began to cry, long wretched sobs. I reached down to touch him but he had crawled away on his belly, wailing like a banshee.

"What has Erik done?" he cried. "What has Erik done to make Christine hate him?"

My heart ached at the sight of the tears streaming down his horrible face and I immediately felt remorse for my hurting him. I reached down and touched him again; he looked at me with huge puppy-dog eyes. He considered my eyes and for the first time, my hand felt disgusting, not because I'd touched him. It was never that to begin with, it was that I had hurt the man, hurt the man who'd given me everything.

"I am sorry Erik, it's just…you tried to drown me." I said.

Erik cried out again and fell at my feet. "Erik did not mean to, Erik thought it was someone sneaking in to bother him!" He wept. "Erik did not mean to hurt his Christine!"

"It is okay Erik… I know you didn't mean to…" I said.

I never thought he did, how could he? This man had given me everything he had to give, and when I looked down at him there on his knees. I felt god-awful because he did not deserve to be struck like that. Looking at his face I saw a harsh red mark on the side of his face where I'd hit him and thought how cruel it was. That mark looked painful but it had not seemed to hurt him, physically at least for he'd not even flinched.

"Erik was bad, Erik needs to be punished!" he shouted.

I was about to respond that whatever 'punishment' he had planned for himself was not necessary but I was too late. Erik crawled over to the mirror and punched it shards of glass shattering in his hand. I winced at the gruesomeness of his blood-stained wrist and rushed forward when he picked up the shard of glass and moved toward his face. I wrenched the shard away from him and sat him up to look at the extent of his wounds. He sucked in his breath harshly when I ran my fingers over his damaged palm.

"Erik, look what you've done to your poor hand." I said.

I took the handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped his hand in it, before taking him to the edge of his lake to wash them. Tending his hand was easy, as was telling him he did not deserve the self-inflicted punishments he gave himself. Punishment! The reason I had come down here suddenly popped back into my head. I lifted his chin so that we were at I level.

"Erik, I have something to tell you." I said.

He looked back up at me, his face expectant as he waited for whatever it was I wanted to tell him. I took a deep steadying breath, shaking her reservations off her mind, I swallowed hard to boost my courage. Erik looked down at me with glittering eyes awaiting her response and growing impatient with the never-ending wait that she held out. Curse his childish mind and its need for instant gratification! Then after taking several deep breaths, the young I noticed his curios gaze and spoke up.

"Erik I cannot perform tonight-"I began.

But before I could continue my voice was cut off so suddenly by Erik's pained shriek that my skin crawled. The sound was so terrible, so lost and so completely _broken_ that I feared my eardrums would bleed. I cringed at the sound, resisting the urge to cover my ears to muffle the terrible cry. My eyes darted back and forth as I felt a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, fearing that Erik's temper would erupt. Erik's rage was a terrible one and I knew that if I provoked it, all hope was lost.

"Christine cannot perform for Erik!" he wailed. "Christine does not want to perform for Erik!"

"No Erik, it is not that…" she said. "It's…"

I was cut off again as he dropped to his knees before her, his horrible deadly hands gripping the hem of my dress in fistfuls. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound of his pitiful sobs but when that failed I could not help but feel that sudden coldness of the lake again. Even though she was no longer soaked just damp, I felt weak and almost sick. Erik, on his knees was looking at me with a kind of tortured devotion, a suffering look that sent sympathetic chills down to the small of her back.

"Erik…" I said sadly my heart broken.

My voice had dropped an octave so it was almost as low as it had been in the chapel only hours before. During this my father's picture came to mind just as it had been, with that 'everything's all right' look in his eyes. Erik looked at me with an expression of hurt as I bent to lift his chin. Tears pooling in his eyes, poor Erik wailed something unintelligible and tugged his chin away. I hated myself for this, I knew how hard he had worked on that score, knew it was his life's work but if I did go on, if I did sing I would be leading him to his death.

"Oh Christine, why would you not perform for Erik?" he cried, "Why do you torment Erik!"

I sighed and ran my fingers through my curls, looking at the weeping man and wincing from pang after pang of guilt. He loved me, I knew that but he was so horrible. He was a madman, but a man that never asked for the slightest thing other than her love in return. He had big, sculpted tears trickling down his mask and I wanted to kiss every one of them away. He was clutching my dress, and I decided to tell him the truth. Bluntness was the best course of action I decided and so I knelt at his level and lifted his chin.

"Erik, Raoul will…" I stopped at the look in his silver eyes, the one that said, 'I'm going to kill you.'

"So Christine's young man has a name, does he?" His voice was dark.

I looked at Erik, who had risen to his feet and slithered past her, poured himself a glass of Spanish brandy and swallowed. I knew he was a good lover of great liqueurs, but she had never seen him drink before. It surprised me that he seemed so genteel when but moments ago he seemed more than the creature of darkness that I had cursed him. Yet, standing before her now, he seemed a gentleman more so than Raoul. Not that being able to drink was a sign of gentlemanliness, but it was the ways he carried himself.

Not knowing what else to do I said, "Yes Erik, his name is Raoul de Changy."

He nodded, humming:

 _"She will share with him, one love, one lifetime. He will lead her from her solitude; Christine needs him with her there beside her… anywhere she goes he will go too. Christine, that's all Erik needs of you…"_

It was then that I felt tears start to leak down from my eyes, beautiful as his voice was I saw all too clearly that the man had given me what he could and that he had heard everything on the roof. Every callous remark all the declarations of love for Raoul, the details of the darkness when he had brought her to his home, his horrible distorted face, the whole thing. I cried then when he gave her this look that is pure agony, beautiful silver eyes, _normal_ silver eyes that looked at me with the utter adoration of a man looking upon an angel. Those eyes were the eyes of a broken lonely man with only me as the light in the dark twisted world he was forced to call home.

"Erik only needs your love Christine that's all he needs…oh why can't Christine love Erik?" he cried.

"I am sorry…" I said, not knowing what else to say.

"Erik understands, he will forgive Christine, it kills him to say it but he will give-give h-her whatever she wishes. Erik would never deny Christine anything, "he cried, "Christine wants her boy to trap him! She wants her boy to kill him!"

He crashed his face into his hands and crying like the wretch he was, he dropped to his knees and clutched the hem of my dress. He then looked at me and wailing with a hoarse croak, he ceased to babble and I knelt to place my hand on his boney shoulder. He looked at me behind the mask and when I gently put my hand on his mask to remove it he pulled away.

"Erik don't you understand I am doing this _for_ you…I'm doing this so that you _don't_ get hurt and…" I said.

"No! Christine's boy wants her to refuse to sing! He wants her to cause Erik pain and she has done it!" he wailed.

"Ugh, oh for goodness sakes Erik I am not doing this for Raoul and…"

"NO! NO! NO! Christine wants her boy to free her of Erik, woe to Erik! WOE! WOE! WOE!" the man cried.

"Goddamn it Erik I do not!" I shouted.

He looked at her with shock at her potty mouth and I blushed at the sound of my voice taking the lord's name as I grabbed him gently and pulled him to his feet. It wasn't very difficult he weighed practically nothing as I eased the trembling man down into my lap I heard him sigh in what could only be shocked bliss as I looked at his tired face, poor, poor Erik was so exhausted and looked so pitiful that I just wanted to kiss him and make him feel all better just like my father used to do.

I did.

My lips brushed his face once twice a third time before finally I landed my lips on his and then the most peculiar thing happened. It was nothing abnormal, no I had kissed Raoul many times but there was something special about this kiss. It sent a warmth through me such as I had never felt before, Erik was in such shock that he opened his mouth and I took that as an invitation, shocked by my own boldness I darted my tongue into his mouth and ran it along his teeth hearing Erik moan softly. I did not know what was going on and I was shocked by my own actions, I was even more surprised when Erik responded.

He grabbed my hair gently moving me closer, his other hand coming to clamp around my shoulder and I knew that no other man would ever kiss me like this again as long as I lived, even if I lived for another century itself. He ran his tongue deep inside my own mouth sliding it slowly down my throat and I groaned as all the pent-up passion we had ignited in one another came out. It was several moments before a sound rang out and interrupted us.

Someone had found their way down to us…


	4. Ultimatums

**Chapter 4**

 **Ultimatums**

 _Raoul_

My trap was bated and set with the perfect logics and masterminding tricks to catch this infamous demon. The man wanted war and he was going to get it if it were the last thing I ever did! It was my blasted duty as the patron of the Opera Garnier to rid this damn theater of this trickster. My plan was in motion, the facts were set with the police, and everything was perfect! Now the only thing that remained was to go find my fiancé and groom her for the performance. I needed her to be ready for it because after this her life as a singer would be over. It was a pity really, for she possessed the voice of an Angel, but then she could always sing to the piano at gatherings. I am not so cruel as to deprive her of the only thing she has ever loved, besides me of course. Ah well I guess there is nothing for it, it is show time… now the only matter was to find Christine.

I haven't seen her since I left the chapel an hour ago, when she'd refused to do this. God knows why, but still, the man had tried to kill me, after all and one would think that she'd be happy to be rid of the man. But alas her kind heart is so big that she has allowed room in it for the monster, it makes me weep with pride. Pride based on the simple fact that she belongs to me, that beautiful, heartfelt angel is mine. I am after all the Vicomte De Chagny, the obvious choice and the best there is! This man, our cleaver friend was in such a large amount of trouble that I almost laughed, let's just see how clever the man is, opera ghost indeed! I wonder if the ghost bleeds and is his blood blue like mine, if he is a human I would imagine it is blue till it turns red.

I imagine that if he is a ghost his blood will be rightly inhuman, I imagined it to be a gooey substance; black and sticky and laced with a repugnant odor to make the stomach churn. Ugly just like him, the man was as foul as sin and as hideous as a demon. He was a killer, as hideous on the outside as he is inside, yes, I was going to kill him and in a way, that made me a murderer too but this was a special occasion and the lord had the right to smite the wicked. I am not the Lord, but I am a De Changy which is the next best thing. Arrogant perhaps, but I have the world at my fingertips always have and always would and if I wished my rival to be gone than so it will be done exactly to my specifications and demands.

Everything else was so why not this as well? I smiled as I walked slowly down the steps of the stage and onto the polished floor, spinning slowly as I looked at the statues of naked women, the velvet seats of the balconies, the ceiling filled with angels. But most impressive was the massive chandelier as big and bright as, well… my Christine. It was a beautiful building, perhaps after this I could buy it out; heaven knows that Andre and Firmin will sell for the right amount of money, those greedy blackguards. Perhaps I shall make it a wedding present to my fiancé, yes she would love that! Just one of the many perks of having a large fortune to my name is being able to smooth over whatever I want and do whatever I wish.

"Monsieur Vicomte, a moment of your time, "Andre's voice called from across the room.

I turned to see the man coming toward me, his goat-horn shaped white hair sticking out and a big goofy grin on his face. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his attire, a red frilly suit and the whole white poufy shirt thing. The sort of plump tasseled affair that was not at all dignified and no self-respecting man would wear He clapped me hard on the back and I could smell Merida on his breath. The man was drunk… perfect. He stumbled over to me, swaggering as though he had been in a bar fight. If I had not known him to be such a delicate little dandy of a man I would have assumed the bruises under his eyes were from such fisticuff dealings. But thankfully it was merely fatigue and a heavy dose of the brown nectar which caused him to slur and belch amidst drowning hiccoughs and I smelled the staleness of the booze emanating from his clothes.

"Ah lad, you really are _brilliant!_ " he laughed, ""I say ole boy, you'll be the talk of Paris! The man who caught the infamous Opera Ghost!" he belched and hiccoughed, holding out his bottle to me, "Let's 'ave a drink ole boy?" He slurred.

"No thank you Monsieur Andre." I told him as politely as I could.

"Mm are you sure?" he croaked, when I nodded he clapped me on the back and said, "ah there's Richard, cheerio Changy!" and laughed stupidly at his use of the English phrasing.

I forced a laugh as he took another swig of wine and guffawed like a bleating Billy-goat, slapping me on the back again. The man really needed to suck on a peppermint or invest in breath-spray because his breath was awful! But drunkards were not known for having good breath and the man was stoned-off-his-arse drunk. My stomach lurched into my mouth and I tried to swallow my morning tea lest it abandon my belly for good. The man was swaying back and forth, how I hoped the man would not fall down because I did not want to catch him. I pushed him forward lightly and he stumbled over, almost tripping over his own feet. I rolled my eyes and shrugged him off with a 'no thank you' after being offered a swig from the oaf's bottle and made my way to the chapel

. I had hoped to find Christine there doing her last preparations for the Opera, but instead I found nothing. She was not there, how odd. She was always here, unless she had gone upstairs to bed which would not have surprised me as my poor angel had not had a good night's sleep in weeks. Ever since the graveyard she had woken up more than once with night terrors and had not been able to sleep for more than a few hours a night. Plus, the whole mess of this opera and my plans, with all this going on Christine was so exhausted and I had made a mental note put her to bed when this was over and let her sleep to her heart's content. God knows she earned it, but when I went to her bedchamber and pressed my ear cautiously to the door I heard nothing at all.

One would assume this is normal when someone was asleep but my Lotte, God bless her had such a dreadful snoring problem that I expected to hear a bear roaring if she was asleep. I tried the door which was locked and sighed, now feeling concerned for her as I thought of the last time we had spoken and how she had told me that she did not want to do this. I had a sudden thought that perhaps she had run away or worse had gone to her father's grave to tell him all about the goings on in the opera. I sincerely hoped not for dead though her daddy might be I had no wish to have my own hauntings going on in the far reaches of the night and if he was listening to her (which I'm sure he is at constant intervals) then I would be in _so_ much trouble for causing her distress. No, better to find her and then make sure she was all right myself, soothe her fears if I could and above all make sure she was ready to finish the job.

I came across a maid passing the door. "Excuse me miss. But can you tell me where Christine Daaë might be?" I called out.

She turned towards me, "Nah, sur. why I've not seen the gel wot was three hours ago."

"Yes, but where'd she go?" I asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows, she had a fat face and her cheeks were red from too much makeup she squinted at me with eyes that were fat and clicked her tongue bordly. "I dunno Mr. She was crying something bad though." She replied. "Ov'r some chap name o' Erik." The maid shrugged and walked away.

Crying? Oh my poor Christine, her fragile heart must've broken over the whole thing. Such a sweet thing she is, ugh now if I could find her that would be great, perhaps I shall check her dressing room. As I made my way towards the staircase I noticed the floor slipping under me. Oh, dear the floor was collapsing around me, where was I falling to? I screamed and tried to grab onto something but there was nothing beneath me other than smooth stone walls and I was falling into the blackness of what appeared to be a bottomless abyss. I knew screaming was useless because if I could not see to figure out where I was chances were no one else could either. I ceased hollering for help and braced myself for the eventual impact, looking down as the floor approached my poor spine which God willing would not break from this.

 _Splash!_

I'd hit the water and hard too. It closed in on me like a vice and it took me a moment to fight my way to the surface. Gagging and sputtering I clawed my way up as I saw (to my horror) a wooden grate looming over me and coming down fast to keep my submerged forever. I swam up to it, hoping to shove it off but it was no use till I saw a rusty wheel in the corner which I went for and grabbed. With a mighty effort, I managed to turn it as I lost control of the muscles in my mouth and was forced to seek air and swallowed a mouthful of the murky green slime before managing to lift the infernal thing and grab onto it where it carried me to the surface. I gasped and gagged and dragged long gulps of air into my lungs, the coldness of it was so welcome and for a moment I flopped down on my belly and hyperventilated for a moment.

In a few minutes, I felt myself vomiting up the slimy muck, after being sick for several minutes I collected myself enough to wonder where I was and where the duce had, this lake come from? I saw no walkway and so I jumped back into the water and tried to paddle my way towards the shore, (assuming there was one) only to discover myself in a long seemingly endless tunnel. There were rats scuttling about me, on rims I was too big to grab onto, not that I would have wanted to. My gloves were white and made of silk, to get sewer grime on them would be appalling; not that they weren't already ruined. Ugh, I know I sound like a fop but please do not blame me, blame my purely feminine education. Anyway, as I was swimming along trying desperately to keep my head above the water, I thought I heard voices... one was crying and the other was... soft and soothing.

 _"Christine, Christine!"_ the first voice was saying. "Why must you do this to your Erik?" the voice asked in a tone that made me feel pity.

Or rather I should say that a man's voice was saying. I did not need to guess whose voice it was that'd spoke for I had heard the man's voice before. When I had stood outside the dressing room awaiting her on our dinner date, true he was the man who'd murdered several people but his voice was still charming. I swam faster, towards the sound because that meant that the bank of this blasted lake was close by. As I made my way towards them, I heard my beloved curse, good heavens! Was she taking the lord's name in vain? I paddled closer to her, and was she touching him? His head was in her lap and she was stroking his horrid visage with the gentlest caress I had ever seen a woman give a man and his horrible sunken eyes were closed as he shook and sobbed.

"I'm doing this so you don't get hurt... It's a trap..." she said.

Did she just warn the monster, ugh Christine my dear Lotte why would you do this to me, all my careful plans! However am I going to trap the man now that you've told him about it? That's just great Lotte, perfect. I watched her for a moment as she leaned down and kissed that horrible monster on the lips and my stomach dropped out. It was not the sort of kiss that a woman should ever give a man, not a virtuous woman at the very least and it was certainly nothing like the kisses she had ever given me. It was deep and moving and passionate, I had never seen a woman kiss a man like this; a good woman and man did not do this outside of the marriage bed because it hinted at lascivious desires and sins of the flesh.

I knew Philippe had liaisons with the chief ballerina and had on more than one occasion done such scandalous kissing with her, but it was well-know that La Sorelli was a whore who supplemented her income with more than one gentleman of the aristocracy. But this was my Christine, my angel child who needed my protection from this horrible boogieman who haunted her every moment; yet here she was kissing him as if she were in love. He kissed her back and I felt sick to my stomach, when I saw him wrap his arms around her and then she did something so shocking so disgusting that I can barely repeat it. She opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to explore the inside moaning as if she enjoyed it.

Oh, my heart! My wretched, wretched heart. My Christine had betrayed me twice over now, first with her words and now in her heart, my Christine was kissing another man and he reached up and held her. I felt tears coming, I sobbed and choked as I wiped hot tears from my face, my brother had been right she did not love me; not the way I loved her and I had been fooling myself. When I saw, her head turn counter-clockwise deepening the kiss I had to put a stop to this before I lost my heart to the depths of despair as she moaned a little and pulled back; looking at him in a way she had never looked at me. I did not want to see anymore and so I allowed my emotions to rule me and I gave myself away.

"Christine!" I called out.

She turned around to see me and her eyes grew wide. I expected the monster to explode at her, to hurt her but all he did (and this really surprised me) was cry. He turned towards Christine and dropped to his knees before her grabbing the hem of her dress with his hand. My love bent down towards him with compassion that made my own eyes water, and I called out to him to open the door. He wasn't listening, but still clinging to the hem of her gown, I rattled the bars of the Iron Gate, they creaked painfully and when I turned to see him on his feet sneering at me. He stood to his feet and turning to me his horrible crooked mouth twisted into a grotesque skeletal smile.

"I bid you welcome Monsieur Vicomte, did you think that I would harm her? Ah, what a low opinion you've of me. Well Monsieur, I am afraid I must disappoint you." he snarled.

I cringed and tearfully stammered, "Christine why?"

"Raoul I…" she began but I wasn't listening I didn't want to hear her justify this.

I felt my blood boil and I reached down for my sword but I was not fast enough and the next thing I knew, the monster had a rope around my neck and he was tightening it cruelly, oh dear the rope burned my neck so harshly! I cried out (or rather I choked) in pain and fear, for though I am no coward I do fear the prospect of being murdered. He turned to me, with a devilish look in his silver eyes that reminded of a vampire trying to scare his prey into submission before eating them.

He turned to Christine, "Erik demands that you marry him! He absolutely demands it! Either you wed your Erik or he dies!" the monster cried.


	5. Choices are made

**Chapter 5**

 **Choices are made**

 _Christine_

Oh dear, oh dear! What have I gotten myself into? My fiancé was standing knee-deep in water with a rope around his neck, struggling to breathe and my teacher ready to murder him. How oh how did I get myself into this mess! My heart that is how! Good God why did I have to love two men at once; why could you not just bless me with knowing who I wanted and leave it at that? But no, God had chosen to give me two gifts and three curses; he had gifted me with music and beauty and cursed me with the love of two very dear friends and a choice that would kill one and elate the other. What was worse was this infernal indecisiveness.

Oh, what a curse the lord had given me! I see it now as I stood there with my hands clenched at my side as I bit at my upper lip. Erik was smiling at me, well more like sneering but it was all the same to me because I'd never seen him smile in the first place. He had no reason to. I looked from one to the other, one was so beautiful; the likeness of a Greek god or the enchanted Adonis. Golden and beautiful with eyes the color of a robin's egg, the other was a demon in the flesh. Ugly, twisted and completely…completely _mine._ My heart clenched and I closed my eyes and pictured my father's face, hoping to find comfort but instead I found him giving me a serious expression. The sort that told me to grow up and that he trusted me to make the right decision and it was time to be a woman. Meanwhile Erik was gripping the rope tighter, and when I opened my eyes I looked from one to the other.

Did I love Raoul? Did I love Erik?

The answer was yes; irrevocably, unequivocally yes, I loved them both so very much. The problem was; that I could not have both and so then the question arose as to which of them I loved more. God I was so confused right now and all I could think of the impossible choice that Erik was forcing me to make and what the results would be. I sighed sadly and remembered that Raoul had promised me the sun, the moon, and the stars, a life of undreamed luxury with money and ballrooms and a title that most girls would do anything to get. He offered me my fairytale ending, he had the power to make all my girlish fantasies become true and give me that, 'I don't care about my inheritance or my family, you're all that matters to me' line and make me believe it.

Then there was Erik, the madman, the murderer, the dark and secretive trickster who wrote music to rival any great composer in history and who could give me nothing but music and love. It was all he had to give and he'd given it, the music, the man, and the heart whatever of it had not broken from the cruelty of the world. I looked into his silver eyes and thought of a few minutes ago when he'd clutched at my gown and promised me everything he had to give, a meager nothingness compared to what Raoul could give me. He'd no title, no lands, no experience in high society and I'd not be the princess of my girlhood dreams. I considered his eyes, the man's heart was on his sleeve and his hand was turning a painful rose-color from gripping the rope.

Closing my eyes, I saw my father standing in front of me; he looked so real that I felt as though I could touch him. I wanted him to hold me in his arms, that rock of safety but I held back as I heard him speak: _"Chrissie baby, pick the one you love. Dreams are fine and all, but that's all they are...you know whom you love...pick him."_ I closed my eyes before wading into the green waters of the murky lake and took the rope from Erik's hand. My father was right, he always was after all and he knew -to my shame- whom I loved better than I did, I slipped the thick rope from his hand and put my cheek in its place.

"Erik... " I whispered, "Erik..."

"What?" he whispered back.

"I love you...please forgive me darling...I love you," I said surprised at how low my voice sounded.

He looked at me as though I had punched him, unmoving as I took his face between my hands and kissed him. It took him a moment to respond but when he did, it was to kiss me back, unsure of how it was done. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he cupped the back of my head my hand slid down to the fine material of his shirt, grabbing on to the collar to pull him closer to me. His hands were strong and smooth as they traveled up my back to hold the nape of my neck. When I pulled away I felt him crying too, his tears falling hotly on my hands.

"Don't cry beloved, please don't cry..." I whispered thumbing the tears away from the brims of his eyes.

"Erik loves you too Christine." he choked, reaching up hesitantly to frame my face.

I pressed his hands there, trying to warm them with my breath, god they were so cold, he was shaking and his clothes were soaked, I looked into his eyes, trying to hold back more tears as he turned towards Raoul and walked to him cutting the rope. My former betrothed ran up to Erik and punched him in the face so hard that he stumbled back into me, almost knocking me over when Erik fell stone-cold out on the ground. Who knew Raoul was that strong? He grabbed my hand, not harshly but certainly not gently and started to pull me towards the gondola and away from my beloved. I tried to tug away from him and turn back but he tightened his grip, it did not _hurt_ per-say but it gave me a minor cramp.

"Raoul, what are you doing?" I asked him. He gave me a look and kept running forward, "Let me go!" I said sharply.

"No Lotte. We can leave now, we have to hurry before he wakes up or..." he said.

"No." I said softly.

He turned around, "What?" he asked.

"I love him...I'm sorry Raoul..." My voice came out in a hoarse ardent whisper.

"Nonsense." he said, looking at me as though I were ill.

"It's true Raoul..." I started.

He spun towards me so fast that I did not even see him move, before I could blink he was grabbing my arms and pulling me to him with his mouth coming down on mine fast and hard and ardent. I cringed, not because his kiss was repulsive because it wasn't. He pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me, completely oblivious to my involuntary movement. I kissed him back because it was the obvious reaction. In fact I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted to feel for him what I felt for Erik, wanted him to be the Prince Charming I had always dreamed of as a child. But alas, the only feeling I got from him was a warm fuzzy sense of friendship.

"See Lotte, my kiss feels better doesn't it?" my Childhood Sweetheart asked.

I rolled my eyes at the smug grin on Raoul's face and closed them to remember who I was and who he was. I am forbidden to marry the boy, and I could not in good conscience take everything from him for want of my own childish dreams. If he were to marry me he would lose everything and then forever resent me for the losses he suffered, his family would approve of me as his mistress but never his bride. Like his brother is famous for saying, 'your little diva is a pretty little thing but she is not meant for your wife.'

"Raoul..." I murmured and turned away, "I don't love you."

He looked at me for a moment and then, he laughed out loud tugging playfully at my curls like he used to do when we were children and I would be in a sulky mood. I looked at him and he shook his head fondly and pinched my cheek like my Nana (grandmother) used to do when we came to see her. I pulled my face away from him and looked at him for a moment, realizing at last why I did not love him the way I loved Erik. He still saw me as a child, the little girl whose scarf he'd rescued from the sea and given her first kiss by the sea as he departed for wherever it was he was going to. He did not see me for who I was, the woman who no longer cowered in the depths of a memory of a man who she'd dreamed would be hers and forsake all else for their love.

He laughed again: "Oh how sweet! Ah my Christine, you are so kind and so naive, you love him! Of course you do! You love everyone..."

Raoul reached out to take me in his arms again but I backed away from him and dove into the lake. The water tasted horrible but I was not going to be removed from the man I loved no matter what, and so I swam for it as fast as I could. Fortunately the gate was still open and it seemed that my love had not moved. Not that I'd expected him to, but then I heard my ex-fiancé shouting at the top of his voice.

"You'll regret this Christine Daaë, you'll see, you and your monster!"

I swam away from Raoul as he called after me, ignoring the calls of obscenities echoing in the tunnel, determined to reach Erik before he woke up. I looked back at the beautiful man in mild regret, not because I was going back to the man I loved, but because he wasn't the man I loved. Oh how I wished for those days when I was a love-struck young girl of six, with romantic dreams of the eleven-year-old boy who had been her knight in shining armor. What I would not give for that care-free time when all that mattered was Raoul, his opinion of her, his comments on the way I looked in her little dresses. The picnics in the attic with father teaching him to play the violin while I laughed at him every time he messed up. But what I missed the most was the game, the recent game of make-believe where he'd played the man I would give my heart to, and he the besotted Romeo ready to give up his family for the sake of my heart.

Alas those times were over and now here I was, propelling herself towards the bank of a house underground towards a very unstable man capable of _anything._ Heaven knew what the man might do to himself if he were to wake and find himself alone. I shuddered as several violent images popped into my head, cursing Erik inwardly for reading me so many ghost stories when I was a child. Or rather, _singing_ them for Erik always did everything with music, particularly when it was bedtime. Seriously those stories were _not_ appropriate for children and certainly not as the subject of a lullaby.

"I'll be back!" Raoul shouted. "I hope you two enjoy your time together!"

My legs were going numb from the water's frigid temperature and my vision was blurred. I finally made my way to the bank where Erik was lying on the stones still out and with a nasty bruise forming under his eye. His face was so sensitive and the skin was fragile, almost paper-thin and the mark looked painful. I went back to the edge of the water and dipped my handkerchief into the greenness of the murky water. Knowing the coldness to be strong enough to numb a stab wound. I mopped at the bruise and willed that he would wake up so I could talk to him because the only sound in the cavern was the, _drip, drip_ of the brimstone ceiling. I found the constant pattering eerie and unpleasant, almost as though I were awaiting death with the _tick-tick_ of the metronome.

"Christine..." Erik moaned.

Just like that he awoke, and I put on my best smile, waiting for him to open his eyes, and when he did they gleamed into mine I gasped. Never having gotten a good look at him before, I never realized how beautiful they were, how silver and raindrop gray they were. He struggled to his feet and reached towards her, and I kissed the palms of his hands, wiping the tears from his eyelids. Erik touched his injured eyelid and looked at her, his eyes swimming with such hurt that the whole inside of her twisted excruciatingly mostly because I did not know why he was hurting, I had picked him, why was he upset?

"Poor Christine!" he cried.

I blinked, what was going on and why was he shouting like that, curse his damn mood-swings! He stumbled to his feet and tossed the drawing table to the ground and papers scattered everywhere. I picked a couple of them up and a light blush came to her cheeks at the sight of some _very suggestive_ drawings of me in his arms. There were drawings where I was in the gypsy-slave costume from _Hannibal,_ I'd had no idea how very revealing that costume was until I looked at this picture. There was another one of me tossing her costume during _Il Muto_ only in this one her throw-away dress revealed not her Saraphimo clothes but her body as bare as the day I was born.

"Erik what's wrong now?" I asked choosing to ignore the doll's nudity

"Erik forced Christine to pick him!" he wailed, "Oh how selfish he is!" Erik dropped to his knees. "Christine must leave Erik now! Go be with her young man!" he sobbed.

I put my finger to his lips, and kissed him whispering again, "I love you…"

I closed my eyes, this was really getting ridiculous. I sighed, not knowing what to do with him, he wasn't lying, he had forced her to pick him, but then I probably wouldn't have been happy with Raoul in the first place. Erik moaned crawling towards her with a wretched and strangled sound coming from him. I shivered at the noise, it was horrible and I wanted him to stop it so much because one, it frightened her and two it was starting to annoy m3. I was about to tell him that he need not fuss over that when I heard drums coming down the tunnel someone was coming down, and I knew that we had to hide.

"This way gentlemen!" Raoul's voice called.

Erik looked up, his expression changed to one of relief at the thought of his upcoming demise, I found this puzzling and I wanted to smack some sense into him. Right after I gave my childhood sweetheart a good punch for this, really this whole mess was tiring. I pulled Erik's hand, tugging him down towards the bank vaults where he kept his money, they huddled there together. Sounds of crashing came from the surface where Raoul and his men were searching, sometime later when the noise ceased, the couple made their way back to the surface where they saw the extent of the damage. There were pictures everywhere, sheet-music scattered about amd furniture overturned.

What a mess!

"Erik..." I whispered, as I saw years of work destroyed, "I'm so sorry..."

"I...oh, forgive Erik... his music was all for you...all for you..." he sobbed. I squeezed his right shoulder.

"Arrgh!" someone shouted.

We turned just in time to see Raoul leap out from his hiding place (where it was we had yet to figure out) and grab Erik by the throat. He went down with a gasp and the two men began to grapple like a couple of wild animals. I, thinking on my feet, grabbed a candle-stand and gave Raoul a hard smack with it. The Viscount went down in a heap and I pulled Erik up, leading him to the vault where he took out his entire fortune all four-million-eight-hundred-thousand francs and stuffed it in a large overcoat, before going in and grabbing any salvageable clothes or other odds and ends he could find.

"I must get her things! Erik wants his wife to be comfortable..." he said.

I nodded and ran to the Luis-Philippe room, where I gathered costume gowns passable for everyday wear, all the jewelry that Erik had given me, (he would be offended if I left it behind.) and everything else I could possibly think of. The last thing I took was the wedding gown and veil he had made for her, he came out with a few leather-bound books, a briefcase and his violin. Items that I found silly, but did not question their use, taking his hand they made their way towards the passage. Erik hooded in his coat and I wrapped in an old cloak from _Faust._ They made their way to the entrance, not noticing Raoul who had stirred behind them, reaching out with one hand he grabbed at the hem of my cloak. I tripped and stumbled back.

"You're staying here with me. I fought so hard to free you." he said, but his voice was not hard the way it'd been earlier, now it was just firm as though he were giving a child an order.

"No. Raoul, I'm not staying here. I'm going with my beloved to somewhere else." I said as kindly as I could.

"I _am_ your betrothed." he said, looking at her as if I were speaking in tongues.

I shook my head and tugged away from the Vicomte, surprised that he would let it go so easily. Perhaps it was the bump on the head that made him so complacent, but he let his hand drop to the ground. Erik pulled her through the door to the outside world, without looking back at Raoul, and missing the devilish gleam in his eyes as the sound of falling rain tapped in our ears.

"Come my love... it is time to go." Erik whispered.

"Where?" I asked.

" _Anywhere you go let me go too."_

 **A quick note:**

 **That's an exact figure, Erik would have accumulated that amount of money over his twenty-year residence at the opera. (Leroux timeline)**

 **~OFR**


	6. Ensnared by Clever Friends

**Chapter 6**

 **Ensnared by Clever Friends**

 _Christine_

If you had asked me three months ago, who I would have been married to the answer would have been totally different. It would have been Raoul with his bright blue eyes and boyish charms and pockets so deep if you dropped tuppence in it you would never see them again. But now I was standing ankle-deep in forest-green water and kissing a man who I had never thought to be anything less than the incarnation of evil himself with a face to match. But now, he was everything to me and I did not ever want to be released from the embrace we had both seemed to find ourselves in now. I nuzzled his chest, my face wet with tears, snot and running makeup that trickled down my face and stung my eyes making them water and burn miserably.

Erik had put on a mask by now, a horrible black thing that I did not like at all; it covered his whole face so that only his bloodshot eyes were visible. I knew that I did not look much better though, and my white wedding dress was now green at the hem from the algae that had no doubt ruined the once exquisite garment. Erik sneezed, and snot oozed from the two holes where his nose should have been; I shook my head in sympathy for him. God only knew how sick the poor man was from so many years of living in this cold, damp place without even a proper bed to rest in at night. He tried to wipe his face; but the mask made that impossible and as he fumbled to stick his hand under the clumsy garment without success.

I reached up and without waiting for him to speak I plucked it off his face dropping it neatly into the water swirling around our feet. Then with the sleeve of my dress I wiped the mucus away and stroked his face feeling how hot he was and wondering how long he had been sick like this. I hugged him again, tighter than I had ever hugged anyone in my life as he coughed up dark green spew from deep within his chest. Not wanting to get it on me he leaned over and spit the nasty stuff into the dirty water; moaning with the return of the relentless headache which returned whenever he was not too enraged to notice and I kissed his neck.

He was taller than me, so much taller; nearly a head in fact, and his grizzly bump-splattered chin hung over mine as he rubbed his chin on the top of my curls. Hampered by the dampness of the underground lake and the lack of adequate space I had never been happier in my life. He smelled of melting candlewax and spices which he no doubt used in lieu of cologne. I inhaled deeply as he sang the line and held onto him as I felt this sudden urge to cry, I was exhausted, this whole situation had drained me beyond the point of words. Erik was so weak, and shaky on his legs from his tears and the force of his emotion that he had barely choked out the lyrics to the love song he had just sang to me.

I had this feeling that we had to run; and fast too if we were not to be caught with Raoul and his army of gendarmes and their artillery of guns. I shivered as I thought of those men with their boom sticks, hunting us down like we were little more than a couple of wild animals they intended to mount on a wall above their mantle. I then realized that this was all my fault; that my former intended was now marching toward me and Erik at a rabid pace, frothing at the mouth for his blood; this was some sort of hell and my own childish fears were going to get Erik killed and my own heart was now getting me into the same trouble. Erik knew this too and grabbed my coat handing it to me and roughly (much more so than he intended I am sure) wrestled the coat onto my shivering shoulders.

"But where are we going?" I asked frightened a little.

Not as frightening as it would have been if we were caught I am sure but nonetheless the foreign and unknown were spooky to me and even more so that I knew I was going to be on the run with a wanted man. Good lord what had my life become; one moment I am on stage engaged to the handsomest, most eligible bachelor in the whole of Europe; and the next well… the whole situation is just too mad for words. Erik sensed my fear as he always did and ran his Antarctic hand over my cheek, instantly soothing me with a single look. It was remarkable that a man who could kill without any emotion; without so much as batting an _eyelash;_ could calm me with such a simple gesture.

"Well Christine said she wanted to live in the country…" said Erik after several moments.

I nodded, realizing that I would get no further comment from Erik now and taking my beloved's hand in mine; we made our way down to the entrance of the tunnel. I yelped as my foot caught on a stone and almost tumbled into Erik. He caught me awkwardly in his arms, intending to set me upright and move on again, but just then I had other ideas and leaned in to steal a kiss. Again, the kiss was deep and shot straight through to my toes as his tongue entered my mouth and slipped down in my throat to enter a place in me that had hitherto never been touched by anything other than a medical tonic when I was ill or the contents of my meals. But this, the taste of his tongue, so warm and wet as it wriggled temptingly into my throat made me never want to eat again if I lived to be a hundred and fifty.

Erik's gasp was encouraging and if his reaction was always this favorable then I planned on stealing kisses from him as often as I could. True I did not have to do this, for Erik would have gladly given me the kiss had I merely leaned up to get it. The other idea seemed more appealing because it was so hard to surprise him and she thrilled at the idea of confusing him for once. So, I leaned up and kissed him. Erik gasped in surprise as the rims of my lips brushed against his; my hand cupping the rim of his hair-roughened jawline. He stood still, and as I waited for him to respond I thought about this kiss. The kiss was soft and hesitant as though we were new lovers when in fact we'd been in love for a long time. Still, perhaps even though our love was not new, it was the _knowing_ that was, that although we were in love we had not known the depth of it till now.

The mood of our display was broken by a sort of quietness surrounding us. The wrong kind of quietness I had felt when spooked by father's ghost stories at Halloween. It was the kind of quietness that made one's hair stand on end; an anticipatory, eerie quietness that held forth a sense of foreboding. The wrapping of the leaky roof was no help; we broke apart, amid this I was sure that I heard the thudding of drums in the distance. _Boom-boom, thud-thud_ they were getting closer and then the cries of men and women arose, it became louder and louder still till it was like cannon fire on my ears and I thought I should like to go deaf at least then I should have some peace and quiet. Amid the noise and clamor I heard the voices of the lynch mob hurrying forward, their words a dreadful, terrifying mantra.

 _"Track down this murderer!_

 _He must be found!_

 _Revenge for Piangi!_

 _Revenge for Bouquet!"_

Not good. Raoul had lead them to the house by the lake and now that they'd found Erik gone they had begun to search the tunnels. I shuddered and cursed my little-play-fellow for this, not wanting to think about what they would do to Erik if we were found. Erik looked around, as he pricked up his ears to hear them. Grabbing me by the hand, he tugged me forward toward the entrance of the cavern. We started to run, holding suitcases we were slowed but they were quick enough to put some distance between them and that horrible crowd. Or so we thought, for Erik and I no sooner got in the tunnel then the smell of smoke wafted to our noses. Above us, the sound of the terrified patrons of that evening's performance as the crowd scrambled for their lives.

I groaned, thankful that the commotion muffled the sound so that it did not attract Erik's well-meaning and momentarily unwanted attention. Looking up at Erik, I noticed that his yellowy skin had gone almost a normal shade of skin-tone white with fear. His grey eyes widened and his grip tightened almost painfully on my wrist. Yelping I made to ask him what the matter was, praying he wasn't in one of his mood-swings. He did not seem angry, just frozen still as though he were made of stone, it was odd for I had never known Erik to panic in all the years of our acquaintance; of course, it wasn't long before I figured out why. Erik was not panicking; no, he was _listening_ rather intently to the sounds of the intruders advancing on us at a dangerously fast pace.

"Burn the monster out!" The manager's voice came booming.

"But sir, he's taken the Daaë girl captive, if we…" the captain's voice.

"I do not care, I want the monster dead!" Andre cried, "Now do it!"

I gasped. Burn him out? Oh God, no they were going to set the labyrinth on fire. That would kill both of us, the managers were mad! They could kill us both and to have my one-time hero leading them, knowing the only way they could have gotten to us if he were leading them I prayed the chief of police would have more sense than this.

No such luck.

"Aye-aye sir." the officer's voice said dully.

There came a crackling noise and a popping before the smoke began to rise above us, I coughed hard, the fumes choking my breath away. Erik dropped his bag and reached for me, I blindly gripped at his hand, but my aim was off in the smoke and I missed falling on my face and smashing my nose flat like a seal being pushed onto a letter; my blood the red wax to keep the envelope shut, I could smell the smoke and it hurt my eyes; made me cough and choke like someone who had used cigarettes for many years. My love was saying something to me; I couldn't hear it over the pounding of my eardrums. It was so hot; I was beginning to feel faint from the smoke, my eyes stinging from the ashes smattering them. The fire was too hot and too strong, I cried out in pain as the flames singed my hair, praying that my voice had enough power to tell Erik to run. To get out before the flames took him too.

"… …. ….!" I cried, but Erik had not heard me.

I felt Erik reach forward and grab my hand tightly, tugging me forward. Erik coughed hard and pulled me towards the entrance. Behind us, the dreadful thumping and ratta-tap-tapping of the drums grew louder and louder still until there came a crash that could only mean the mirrors were busting from the house. I was being pulled forward, onward to the streets where curious bystanders were watching us, gasping in shock before a small group of people were running towards us. Their figures blurry and grey and although they tried to lift me, I refused to let go of Erik. I had very nearly lost him in there and I was never going to let him out of my sight again. My knees gave way underneath me, but I felt Erik go down first, his broad form landing heavily on the cobblestones. I saw two men grab Erik under the arms and lift him from the ground, a third gently removing my hand from his. I tried to reach for him but my hand fell limply at my side, too heavy for me to lift again, another man came running to make a total of four, one of them kneeling to feel my pulse.

"Miss please stays with me." The man was saying.

"N-n-no… E-E-Erik…" I choked straining my neck to see him.

"He will be all right miss." the man said soothingly. "We're going to get you out of here."

"P-please don't take him away, I c-can't bear for anything t-to h-happen to him." I coughed.

Normally, I would have considered myself unreasonably paranoid, but given the circumstances I think it justified.

"Shh...Shh..." The man shushed me.

"I l-love him, please..." I croaked.

The man smiled gently, he was an older man and grandfatherly with his snowy beard and thick glasses. A dreamy look cast-over his eyes when he petted my blond curls and lifted me from the street. His work-clothes smelled of tobacco and cheap aftershave. Leaning back against him, I closed my eyes. My throat ached abominably, my eyes hurt like hell and I was exhausted. My hand was burnt, I knew that by the sting and God only knew what was wrong with Erik. How bad were his injuries? Good God was he dead? I opened my eyes frantically looking at the man hurt a lot and the man smiled.

"He will be all right." the man said again.

I nodded weakly, shutting my eyes and drifted into oblivion, dreaming of all the things I would do with Erik when we were out of this mess. The man's rocking footsteps made me drowsy and when I drifted off I hardly heard him whisper something to one of the men assisting Erik. The _clip-clop_ of a horse's hooves hitting the street only a faint noise in the distance. When I woke again, I was in a bed, (whose bed I do not know) my dress had been changed, and I was wearing plain white, my things beside me on the shelf and my old dress was in the waste bin. I felt a pang in my heart as I looked at the remains of my wedding dress but knew there was nothing to be done for it, it was wrecked beyond repair and Erik would no doubt insist on making me another. Erik, how could I have forgotten? I tried to move, but everything hurt but I didn't care. I must find him; I rolled over and moved my arm which felt unnaturally stiff.

"Ouch..." I murmured as I moved my hand.

The hand itself was wrapped and taped in medical supplies, there was a small rectangular bandage on my left cheek and a smaller one under my right eye. I blinked a few times before I looked around the room. I was either in hospital or some other kind of sick-room. It was hard to take in my surroundings at first, but the sound of ailing people, the hacking, the coughing, the moaning was unmistakable. I had been in one as a child when my papa was dying, I paled, wondering in horror why we were here. Where was my beloved and how long had, I been asleep? Had Erik made it out? Was Erik all right, was Erik dead? Oh, please no, he could not be dead.

"Oh, you're awake." came a voice, interrupting my thoughts, "I was beginning to worry."

I turned to see that kind old man from the street looking at me with an expression of happy relief. "Yes, thank you for helping me sir." I said.

"None required." he said, "I'm doctor Kent. Miss?"

"Christine please." I said. Any man that had helped me as much as doctor Kent needn't bother with formalities.

"Pleased to meet you Christine." he smiled.

I nodded, "Doctor is my fiancée-Erik is he all right?" I asked him.

He nodded but when he placed his hand over mine, his expression was sympathetic, almost sad "He's alive; he's been out for three days. I don't know when he is going to wake up." I put my hand to my mouth; Doctor Kent patted my hand, and said sadly, sympathetically, "If he's going to wake up."

If he was going to wake up? No, he could not be dying; My Erik could not leave me. I began to cry, "I'm so sorry Christine." he whispered.

"Is there anything you can do, anything at all?" I asked.

Doctor Kent shook his head, opening his arms to me, I fell into them, wanting to press my eyes out, squeeze this bad thing away from me and my lover. He held me for a long moment and when he let me go took out his medical kit and began to check me out to see if there were any unknown illnesses or injuries. Thankfully, he finished his examination of me in a few minutes and got up to get some water to wash his supplies. When I asked to see Erik, he took me to the far end of the long narrow room where Erik lay swaddled in blankets and propped on pillows from the waist up. Pulling up a chair, I sat down next to him. Doctor Kent left us alone at my request, and I sat there, stroking his hair and crying my eyes out.

 **A/N Wow, intense huh? Major fluff coming up next.**


End file.
